


Waiting to be Claimed

by firewolfsg



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Molestation, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewolfsg/pseuds/firewolfsg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deathstroke is unexpectedly offered custody of a depressed and lost Dick Grayson, and the two make some interesting discoveries as they plan for the future.</p>
<p>Fic Setting: Takes place a couple of months after Nightwing #100 and is an AU where Dick does *not* join the mob. </p>
<p>Written October 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting to be Claimed

**Author's Note:**

> So... what if Nightwing was bisexual, interested in mature men and "There is also a part of him that longs to be pinned down and loved a little bit savagely and hurt just enough to reassure him that he's alive."

Of all the ways Slade had expected to meet Dick Grayson again, this lavish and decadent bedroom within Black Mask's compound was the last place he'd have expected to find him. No one had heard from Nightwing since the end of the gang war in Gotham, which had seen an exodus of Batman's allies after the GCPD had declared him persona non grata, with a shoot to kill directive for all officers. Slade had heard some rumblings of a confrontation in Bludhaven which saw the skank, Nightwing had briefly been associated with, being turned in for Blockbuster's murder but there was nothing after that.

Now that he laid eyes on the listless young man, partially adorned in a crimson robe, half sitting on the floor and leaning against the rumpled bed though, Slade had a better understanding of what might have happened. But it surprised him. Slade had the unfortunate opportunity to have seen Nightwing after he had been beaten down and roughed up by the Wildebeests some years back; however, even then the kid had never looked so vulnerable. (1)

Of course, a lot of his current assessment could be attributed to the scores of roses tattooed over the younger man's back, plus the obvious traces of makeup which highlighted his face, clearly feminising his usually strong features. Then there was also his carefully manicured and painted finger nails which made his hands appear much more slander and smaller than they really were. It looked as though Grayson had lost an alarming amount of weight as well; weight that a person of his build, who had virtually no body fat, could ill afford to lose.

"Recognise him, do you?"

"Wasn't he a resident in Bludhaven?" Slade asked cautiously. He wasn't sure how much Black Mask knew, and he liked the kid too much to spill his secret identity if it hadn't been revealed yet.

"Ahh, yes." Black Mask eyed Deathstroke thoughtfully. "You *would* recognise him. I forgot you had briefly clashed with ex-Officer Grayson when you last visited the city. I believe it would account for one of the bullet scars he has on his arm."(2)

"*Wayne* isn't exactly an easy target..." Slade lifted an eyebrow at the other man having finally guessed which identity was being addressed.

"He did tell us that too." The mob boss strode into the dimly lit room to stand beside the half conscious man and stroke Grayson's hair softly as if he was a cherished pet. "He claimed he had a falling out with Wayne and would be on his way to being removed as the man's acknowledged heir. Something I did not believe. My sources tell me Wayne's lawyers have made no motion to void the adoption."

"What's the game, Black Mask?" Slade was getting impatient, and he was also disturbed by the situation before him. He may not have known Nightwing very well, but it was very unlike him to be trapped in such a vulnerable position. At the least, Slade wondered what the Titans, the Outsiders, and even the bat clan were up to, to be so unaware of Grayson's situation.

"I'm considering a chess piece, if you will?" Black Mask left the man's side and beckoned Slade to accompany him out of the room. "I want you to take him in as an apprentice and make him loyal to us."

"What?"

"Come, come, Deathstroke. You have a stellar reputation, yet as a rookie, ex-Officer Grayson here managed to avoid being killed by you and interfered with your mission to take down your target long enough for that miscreant Nightwing to get involved. He must therefore be very lucky, or he has the necessary x-factor which will make him trainable as an associate."

Slade refrained from interrupting the mob leader. He was curious and willing to wait to hear what kind of fairy tale plans Black Mask was intending for Grayson in his capacity as Wayne's heir. Given Bruce Wayne's almost legendary disapproval and dislike of Lex Luthor and, his company's rival, Lex Corp, Slade had to wonder too if Black Mask intended to offer the kid to Luthor to give the Society a hostage to use to gain Wayne Industries as an ally.

"He is quite vulnerable now, as you can well see. It was chance that my men happened to be at the station when he stormed out, but I did hear ex-officer Grayson here had been embroiled in the undercover operation which saw to the end of our dearly departed colleague; a death he apparently feels responsible for though he was not the one who actually shot Desmond in the head; and despite the vigilante Nightwing's involvement and failure to prevent the shooting as well." While standing at the door, they both turned to look back at the slumped figure who still gave little indication he noticed their presence. "It seemed quite apparent that his guilt, for failing to prevent Desmond's murder, has driven him away from both his vocation, and his father."

By not a flicker did Slade reveal how impressed he was with Black Mask's observation. However, he rather doubted the mob boss could have in his wildest imagination guessed that the vocation he was talking about was Grayson's status *as* the vigilante, Nightwing, and his 'father,' the Batman of Gotham City.

"Indeed, the boy appeared quite at loss with what to do with himself when he showed up at the address on the card my underling gave him." Black Mask said rather smugly to himself. "Quite ripe for us to further tear down and break him into itty bitty little pieces."

How he managed it, Slade couldn't quite explain, but he kept a tight rein on the anger and fury which flared within him on hearing the unspoken suggestions of what might have been done to a young man whom he had long respected. "Let me guess." Slade's words were carefully controlled without a single hint he was clamping down on the desire to utterly destroy the self-satisfied bastard standing next to him. "Now that you've broken him, you want *me* to rebuild what's left and make him a worthy minion in our 'society'."

"Why, yes. While it would have been amusing to let Luthor have him, I do believe guilt would prevent young Mr. Grayson here from responding positively to his father's chief rival. Also, unlike our other esteemed colleagues, I wager you would seem the most similar in age and statue to Mr. Wayne. Plus, it is rather well known that you once had a son his ag--"

This time, Slade did not hold himself back from catching Black Mask by his shirt and slamming him against the wall. "Urk-- No-- no disrespect-- was intended!"

"Just tell me what you did to the boy." Deathstroke asked coldly, not letting up on the pressure against the man's throat. "And let me be the judge of how viable your thought is to make him an apprentice."

"Just drugs and suggestions-- the tattoos-- a bit of torture--"

"Rape?" Slade growled at him coldly.

"No!" Black Mask squeaked against the grip on his throat. "We may have molested him enough to put the fear in him, but he's unharmed! Wayne would never have let it go if we raped his son."

Deathstroke released the man. The mob boss would never realise how close he had been to death with Slade's question. If he had given an affirmative answer, Slade was quite sure he would not have been able to prevent himself from crushing the bastard's throat.

"He leaves with me now. And I'll see what I can do with the rich man's son."

*~*~*~*~*

Slade watched attentively as Grayson slept. He had brought the younger man back to his mansion, cleaned the junk off his face and hands, and then dressed him in a set of his pyjamas before tucking him into a bed that had been made up in fennel sheets.

Having additionally found a blue butterfly tattooed on Grayson's inner left thigh, Slade had not put much credence to Black Mask's claim that the kid was untouched until he had him thoroughly check by a trustworthy doctor. Thankfully his fears were put to rest and the doctor assured Slade that the kid wasn't anymore worst for wear, apart from his weight loss and the cocktail of hallucinogenic drugs which had been pumped into him. He had been adequately warned though, that depending on how long his captors had been holding him, Grayson might suffer from drug withdrawal symptoms.

Slade had half a mind to give Arsenal a call and get the Outsider involved in his friend's care. However, considering how he was still on the archer's shit list for masquerading as Batman and using the Outsiders to take care of 'competition', (3) Slade decided he was better off staying quiet about Nightwing's status. At the least, he could be sure word would not accidentally leak back to Black Mask or their allies and endanger Nightwing's identity. While he could trust the ex-CBI agent to be discreet, Slade could guess that Harper would be very 'loudly' furious if he were to lay his eyes on Grayson right now. And it would not bode well for either Deathstroke or Nightwing if 'out of the blue' Arsenal and the Outsiders suddenly descended on Black Mask's operation seeking retribution for what was done to an 'ordinary' ex-Cop.

"He's very pretty." Rose's words shook Slade out of his thoughts to bring his attention to his daughter, who had just entered the room.

His eyes were immediately drawn to her throat which was still wrapped in bandages. Slade was reminded again that though her healing speed was remarkably faster than a normal human, it was very unlike his. He often wondered if it was coincidence, or if Grayson had related his story to Batgirl, for her to wound Rose in a way so similar to Joey's injury as a child. (4) (5)

As he rushed Rose to a trustworthy emergency room to treat the near fatal injury, Slade had been acutely reminded of his mad dash to a hospital, at a different time and in a different city, carrying his gentle son Joey whose throat had been slit. Joey had lost his voice. Rose kept hers though. Slade still wasn't sure how he would have felt if Rose had lost her voice too.

Strange as it may have sounded, Slade wasn't angry with Batgirl. He had been very aware Batgirl could have easily killed or permanently maimed his daughter. However, the near fatal injury she had caused was just a way of driving home a point to him. And the mercenary couldn't help reflecting that he was ultimately grateful for her 'advice'.

Until Rose's wounding, Slade had completely forgotten how much he had hated and was afraid to have his children follow in his footsteps. Joey had nearly died and lost his voice because enemies discovered his identity and wanted to hurt him through his family. Addie had divorced him and took his children away to publicly cut all ties with him so she could raise them in safety.(5) His eldest son Grant had hero worshipped him and died trying to emulate his father.(6) And while he had initially blamed Raven for Joey's eventual death and the messed up nature of his spirit's current existence, ultimately it had been as much his fault that Joey joined the Titans in the first place.

"Daddy?" Rose's voice again intruded on Slade's thoughts, bringing his attention to her face with the eye patch over her left eye so like his own. It reminded him again of how he had twisted her psyche to make her join him using drugs, emotional blackmail and psychological manipulation. And it made him suddenly ashamed for having used his daughter so.

"Daddy?!"

"Wha-- sorry, Rose. I was miles away."

"That was very obvious." She rolled her eyes at him. "So... Did you indulge in your bat obsession and decide to pick up a new toy? Or is there something else going on which I didn't know about?"

"Bat obsession? Toy?" His daughter's insinuation hadn't really registered until she sighed and parodied a lascivious expression.

"Rose..." He growled at her warningly not a least bit amused.

She grinned at him. "He is quite pretty."

"That's not why he's here." He growled at her. "He's to be one of your instructors."

"Yes, Daddy..." Her immediate sombre expression touched a cord in his heart making him suddenly wonder if he ever heard her laughing after she joined him.

*~*~*~*~*

It was hours later before a weak voice drew his attention from his book. "Slade?"

"I've seen you in trouble before, but damn! This was some jam, kid." The older man put his book down, reached for the glass that he had beside the table and placed a straw against Grayson's lips to let him take a sip of water. "Want to tell me how you got in it and why none of your friends were aware of what happened to you?"

"No."

Slade narrowed his eyes at the younger man, but he let it go. He'd find out in good time. He allowed the silence to stretch between them for a long while before he spoke again. "He's not going to be happy with the tattoos."

Grayson winced, knowing who the 'he' in his statement was. "I wasn't exactly in a position to-- stop them."

"It's going to hurt like hell coming off, and you know it'll be for your own security that it does come off." Slade warned him softly.

"I know."

They fell silent again. Slade swore that it was like pulling teeth. "Talk to me Grayson. Black Mask just dumped your ass on me and now expects Deathstroke to turn Bruce Wayne's son into a card carrying costumed villain. Maybe you can explain to me why I should cover your butt and help you through this?"

"Why bother?"

He could have lashed out then; delivered a stinging slap across Grayson's face for his apathetic view of life. But Slade held himself back. There was something very disturbingly resonant about Grayson's carriage; something which reminded him of how he had been during the lowest ebb in his life.

'But truthfully, why bother?' Well... for one, Joey's spirit-- his *real* spirit would never forgive him if he let Grayson kill himself. And by the looks of the situation, the kid was on that road right now.

Slade just couldn't understand why the hell Grayson was on his own and so far away from his family and friends-- the surviving family and friends, that is. He had heard about the fire bombing of Haly's circus; and the last time he had passed through Bludhaven, when he and Rose had been contracted to dispose of Batgirl, Slade had also noticed the construction teams clearing the ruins of the apartment complex where Grayson once lived.

Slade seethe inwardly, wondering why Wayne hadn't thought to lock his son up in his fancy manor until the kid had his head screwed on straight again and wasn't a danger to himself. But he caught himself to grimace in remembrance that Batman had his own problems with the mob *and* the GCPD. Also, the last he checked, Grayson was an adult. And as much as he would like to chide Batman for not paying closer attention to his fledgling, Slade had to sympathise with him for being a father who was trying not to be too controlling of his son. Considering the amount of attention Batman had to give to his city now that he was alone in Gotham, Slade had to admit he really couldn't fault him for not being aware of what was happening to Nightwing if the kid didn't want to keep him informed, or swallow his pride to ask for help.

After all, it was Slade's observation that that was what got Grayson in the most amount of trouble; the collapse of his sense of judgement when he was emotionally overwrought. Certainly Slade could easily recall examples of Nightwing's emotionally triggered follies, first with Brother Blood's cultists when he had gone looking for Raven without backup only to get himself captured and brainwashed;(7) then there was the ill conceived wedding to Starfire at a time when the Titans had been messed up in the media fallout after the Wildebeest brouhaha, and when Wayne himself had been struck down and bed ridden with a broken back.(8) This current mess with Black Mask could well be counted as one of those big disasters-- if no one did anything to stop the train wrack which was still charging along.

Slade let out a big sigh as he pinched the skin above the bridge of his nose. Joey would never forgive him if he didn't do anything. But what could he do now? Just what was he expected to do to shake Grayson out of his depression and take an interest in life again? It wasn't as if his troubles could be easily forgotten and swept under a carpet. But this-- apathy was unacceptable.

"So this is it? You're giving up?" Slade grabbed the younger man by his borrowed pyjamas shirt and brought him up nose to nose with him. "You realise that to protect myself, I could send you back to Black Mask and just tell him you're a lost cause. What the *hell* do you think he'll want to do with you then?"

Slade didn't bother waiting for an answer. He just moved, following his instincts to drag Grayson out of bed and down the hall to his armoury. He threw the younger man on the practise mat in front of his collection of knives and swords, making sure as he did so to rip the shirt off the kid's back to expose the tattoos painted on the skin.

"You don't get to be silent about your future Grayson. This is me. And maybe the opinions of your shit friends don't mean anything to you, but Joey was my son and he respected you once. *He* chose to help you and your Titans over familial loyalty to me, and I could respect him for that. He thought you were worthy of his love and loyalty, so I'll give you a choice." Slade towered over him. "Tell me! Is that what you want, Grayson?

"To go back to Black Mask and let him put you up in one of his brothels since you're too apathetic to do *anything*?! 'Cause that'll be all you're good for, won't it? You can lie back and let your clients do what they want without any physical or emotional response required of you.

"But what's the God damn point of all this?! To show how worthless you really are? To show how far you've fallen?

"What about it, Grayson? I'll be generous out of respect to my son and let you choose how you make your last ignominious fall. Do nothing and be sent back to Black Mask and spend the rest of your miserable life as a druggie, sex toy for anyone who wants to fuck a billionaire's son; or you can take your pick of my wall of weapons and put yourself out of your own misery.

"Choose!" Slade yelled at the stunned man staring at his collection of weapons.

For a long moment as he watched Grayson curl into himself with his head on his arms and knees, Slade thought his gamble had failed. He could feel his heart ache to wonder how this young man, who he had respected for so long, could have fallen so low. And he promised himself that he would put the man out of his misery rather than send him back to Black Mask.

"Slade?" His ears barely picked up the word which was said softly and almost completely muffled behind Grayson's arms.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Thank you."

Slade cautiously sat beside him, still unsure of what Grayson was thinking of doing. "For what?"

"I needed to hear that."

Hope surged within him, and Slade felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he leaned back on his arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Well someone had to say it." He told Grayson at last. "And would you mind looking up at me all ready?"

"Don't want to right now," was said quite softly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Feeling-- Stupid... Embarrassed... Ashamed..."

"Everyone has one of those days-- months-- God help you when it lasts years."

"Years?" Grayson raised his head slightly to turn his face towards him.

"How do you think I felt after Addie shot out my eye, divorced me and walked out of my life with my kids?"(5) Slade growled at him.

"Ouch!" The younger man winced sympathetically.

"Right." Slade corked his head towards his companion. "Since you've been out of the loop, I don't suppose you heard that your 'dad's' been having a shitty couple of months too."

"Batman?" The kid unfolded his limbs to sit facing him.

"You have any other father? He's still persona non grata with the GCPD. And rumours are out there that the JLA mind wiped him on something big some years back." Slade inwardly sighed as he watched Grayson's expression change into concern for his father. The kid truly was too nice a guy for his own good. He let himself go and isolated himself from friends in his misery, but once he heard about someone else's troubles he took an interest again. "The grapevine's also a buzz with gossip that big blue was mind controlled by Maxwell Lord, of all people; made him almost kill Wonder Woman-- and your dad."

"Is he all right?! Is she--?"

"Sit down. He's alive and still swinging around the roof tops of Gotham." Slade caught Grayson's arm to stop him from rising and pulled him to sit beside him again. "The how of it isn't important right now, Kid. But rumour has it the Amazon had Lord beat before she *execute* him." (9)

The kid was speechless. "Knowing your dad, how do you think he's taking this?"

"Superman--" Grayson was stumbling over his words in shock. "He's the closest thing to a best friend that-- that Bruce has got-- besides family-- and Diana-- they were-- she-- she knows what he feels about killing. She *knows*!"

Slade shrugged. "That's not all." In timing, the event he was about to mention happened before the fall out among the Big Three. However, he thought it was connected much more personally and therefore better used to cap off their little talk. "There's even a big one out there that Batman recently lost control of some sort of state of the art satellite."(10)

At Grayson's stricken expression, Slade just had to pounce on the thought so as to ensure the kid would put his situation in perspective and get over the Blockbuster fiasco once and for all. "You know, kid? If the Bat did have a do-hickey which could track and monitor all meta-humans on earth, like rumours say it does, wouldn't he already know about the details of Blockbuster's death?"

Understanding dawned on the kid's face. "Shit."

"So what *was* your last encounter with Batman like?"

Grayson hid his face in his arms again. But Slade could read enough from his body language to tell that the kid wasn't grief stricken or even sad. Instead, he looked highly embarrassed and ashamed.

"Well?"

"He-- draped his cape over me in the Bat Cave to keep me warm."

"And what did you do?" Slade prompted knowing there was more to the story.

"I walked out behind his back and went to Bludhaven to handle-- unfinished business..."

"Damn, kid. That was *cold*." Slade slapped him on the shoulder. "What did the skank cast around you, a stupidity field?"

"I--"

"Well, it's about time her influence wore off, ain't it?" Slade pulled the younger man's head up by his hair and made him look at him. "'cause I need you back to *normal* and *thinking* again.

"*We* need to come up with a cover for you with Black Mask, and you *owe* it to me to make sure *I'm* not going to lose face in this mess you made of yourself.

"Plus-- I have some other business we need to talk about and I'm looking for allies."

Grayson brushed off his hand to straighten up. The kid's eyes were narrowed on him suspiciously. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?

"Need to-- clean up my messes..."

"Got that right, kid." Slade rose to his feet and offered the younger man a hand to pull him up too; but solicitously keeping a hold on Grayson's arm when he showed some residual imbalance from his earlier drugging. Plus the injury to his right thigh was far from completely healed. Slade made a mental note to himself to get Grayson a pair of crutches.

"The 'stupid period' *is* over, right? No more urge to wallow in your misery. No devil on your shoulder urging you to take this opportunity to give up the hero gig, go bad and play at being a real villain for a while.

"No sudden desire to join the Mob, and mess around with underage, mob princesse--"

Grayson leg swept him, but his movements were still too sluggish to let the kid step away before Slade kicked his feet out from under him and wrestled the younger man to the floor; managing to sit astride his rump with his wrists locked behind his back. Slade noted that the kid was *seriously* off his form to be taken down so easily. He cursed silently to himself, it would be a while before they could get some real work done. They had to get Nightwing back in fighting form first. Nevertheless, he was somewhat assured to observe Grayson was laughing for their brief moment of horseplay.

"Uncle! Come on, Slade. I know I fell pretty far, but I've got ingrained standards that I *don't* forget."

The mercenary grinned as he released his laughing 'captive,' sure now that the kid was going to be all right. "Yeah, yeah, good to have you back, kid. That brain of yours had better be in mighty fine working condition when we sit down for a real planning session."

"Slade?"

Catching the almost wary tone in Grayson's voice, it was only then that Slade noticed how his body was reacting to their physical contact. He was hard, and by some accidental quirk of fate he was seated and fitted quite nicely against the cleft of the younger man's ass.

Slade tried to leap away, only to find himself tangled up in Grayson's legs and brought down again. He managed to catch himself from landing with his full weight on the kid, but was once more astride the younger man and groin to groin this time, *and* discovering an answering hardness. They stared at each other in shocked surprise for a long moment.

"Shit, kid! You're not--"

Grayson's hands shot up to grab Slade's shirt and drag him down to meet his lips in a kiss. The only synapse which was still firing in Slade's head at that moment was screaming at him to take control and devour this very desirable and apparently willing young man who was lying pinned beneath him. Slade's conscience on the other hand calmly told him that Grayson's judgement was probably shot and he needed to back off if they really wanted to work together in the future. Unfortunately for Slade's libido, his conscience had Joey's voice. And his son was not very happy with him for taking advantage of his friend.

"Grayson!" Slade broke off the kiss forcefully and glared at the slightly dazed younger man. "Where did that come from?"

It took a couple of blinks before Grayson's eyes focussed on him properly and he started to turn pink from mortification. "The-- drugs probably-- lowers inhibitions-- damn!" Grayson pushed at Slade to get off (which he obligingly did) before presenting the man with his back. His entire posture was that of embarrassment again.

Slade took a couple of deep breathes to calm his breathing as he tried to focus anywhere else but at Grayson's back where the rose tattoos seemed to be taunting him. In his mind's eye, he couldn't help but imagine the scene of the tattooing session; where Black Mask's men probably had the kid nude and firmly strapped down on a table while the artist plied his trade. He recalled Black Mask telling him that he had let his men hint at the possibility of rape-- and Slade's libido was taking his imagination in all sorts of inappropriate directions which *did* *not* help him control the erection that was still straining within his pants.

"Let's get you back to bed, kid. *Alone.*" He added hastily.

Grayson let out an embarrassed though strangled laugh at Slade's rough tone. There was no hiding the fact they had both been deeply affected by the momentary contact. However, they pointedly did not mention it nor look in the direction of each other's groin when Slade gave the younger man a hand up.

"The next three days are going to be rough."

Grayson winced as Slade half walked and half carried him back to his room. "I was with Roy when-- he was getting over his addiction years ago. You-- could call him--"

"Arsenal may owe you, kid." Slade brushed off the offered excuse as he gave up on patience to scoop the younger man up in his arms to carry him into his room and tuck him into bed with all haste. "But we're not exactly on speaking terms, and I'd rather not have the Outsiders appearing to storm my mansion to 'liberate' you."

Grayson snickered as he settled back against his pillows, then he turned serious as he looked at Slade. "Since Wayne Enterprise owns Optitron and it's the outfit that's funding the Outsiders, (3) you-- don't need to-- take care of me-- if you'd rather not.

"We could swing a case with the Outsiders that they were asked to track down and return Bruce Wayne's son to Gotham."

Slade shook his head. "One, I don't want to deal with the damage they'll cause when they 'rescue' you. Two, you'd still owe me. Three, I'm looking for allies, kid. There's something going down with the community on the 'wrong' side of the tracks, and I don't like it. You could pay me back by being that back up *and* connection to the side of angels which I think I'll need. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly on the superhero community's list of favourite associates after I defended Light."

"Wasn't him who murdered-- Sue Dibny... It's understandable why you'd take up his case." (11) Grayson shrugged. "Are you-- sure you want to deal with the next three days?" The kid looked up at him with blurry eyes as he started to yawn, his quota of energy seemingly depleted for the day.

"Not another word, Grayson." Slade tapped him on the nose. "Besides, Joey would never forgive me if I didn't help you out."

"I miss him."

Slade's face softened at the kid's quiet, heartfelt admission. "I do too, kid. I do too." He ruffled the younger man's dark hair fondly before he got up to leave the room. He had to go hunt down a cold shower.

*~*~*~*~*

As they both predicted it was three days of hell. Three days of pain, restlessness, insomnia, diarrhoea, vomiting and cold flashes. By the time it was over, Slade was damn glad Grayson was off his depression. He didn't think a suicidal man could have weathered the pain and humiliation of a drug withdrawal ordeal where he lost all control over body and dignity.

Over the weeks that followed, they'd speak quietly and made their plans whenever Grayson felt well enough to concentrate in between sessions of physical training, and physical therapy for the slowly healing thigh injury to get back in shape.

The Kid could still surprise him though. Most significantly that one time when Rose had been embroiled in a discussion with him on tactics, and he invited her to attack him. Given the fact Grayson was still on crutches, Slade thought Rose would wipe the floor with him. It was far from the case, and Slade had initially been disappointed in his daughter's poor showing, until the kid challenged him too. As ridiculous as the idea had been, Grayson greeted his overconfidence mercilessly, held him off and tripped him up before he could recover.

The kid was smirking as he stood over Slade's stunned body with one crutch holding down his left wrist, a foot holding down his right and the remaining crutch at the mercenary's throat. "So that, Rose, caps off your lesson on being prepared for the unexpected, *and* never underestimating your opponent no matter how the situation initially appears."

"Now that we know you can fight with crutches though--" Slade would admit his surprise only to himself to hear Rose sound so much more upbeat and receptive than he had expected her to be after a defeat. "Isn't your element of surprise against us lost and-- isn't it dangerous for you?"

"You're assuming I'm a one trick pony, Rose. Go back to lesson one." Grayson winked at her as he got off Slade. "Besides, you're also assuming we're going to meet as opposing forces and that I'll want to face you off personally.

"What makes you think I'm suicidal?"

The light heartedly delivered honest statement succeeded in drawing a delighted and clearly flattered chortle from Rose. Hearing her actually laughing again... It made Slade seriously reconsider his current feud with the Titans.

"Daddy?" Slade shook himself from his thoughts to look up at his daughter; noticing only then that Grayson had hobbled away to get a drink of water and rest his leg. "Daddy, I like him. Can we keep him?"

Slade glared at his daughter's innocent expression. On the other hand, seeing her clearly amused with him wasn't exactly ego lifting either.

*~*~*~*~*

Slade had missed Grayson's first call to Wayne, but he had a chance to eavesdrop a couple of times later with the weekly progress reports that the man dutifully gave his father. Rose had caught that first conversation though, when Grayson contacted Wayne to assure him that he was alive and well, and to clue Batman in on their plans. Slade could have told her he wasn't surprised it had involved a lot of yelling. He had guessed as much that the Bat would have been far from pleased with the suggestion for Grayson to enter the 'Society' as Slade's project to transform the Wayne heir into an apprentice.

However, Wayne was at last persuaded to trust his son's judgement and was willing to wait on the results of their deception. Slade knew it had further sweetened the deal for Grayson to promise he'd drop by Gotham for a visit as Nightwing before he started his deep cover as the 'Society's' newest recruit. Later-- all it needed was for Slade's new 'apprentice' to succeed in making contact with Catman in The Six to correct the allegation that Deathstroke had killed his pride of lions and they'd have all bases covered. (12) As one of her daughter, Lian's favourite 'uncles,' Slade could be sure, but he was hoping it mattered enough to Cheshire for her to allow Grayson free passage and contact with The Six without loss of life or limb.

*~*~*~*~*

"So--? When may we expect you to debut your-- interesting little project, Deathstroke?" Talia looked askance at Slade after the Society was finished with their main order of business.

"Yes, indeed." Luthor lifted an inquiring eyebrow at him. "Do tell us what kind of progress you're making with Wayne's son. I am curious to know what you're hoping to accomplish in turning him into another costumed creature.

"I still maintain that Talia and I could do far more with the boy in Lex Corp."

Slade noted the contrary expression on Talia Head's face, which he guessed would be his only hint the daughter of the Demon knew far more than she let on. He could respect that. After all, he also had similar views regarding privileged knowledge. If Luthor wanted to know about Wayne's secret identity, he could do his own footwork.

"The Kid wouldn't respond positively to you at all Luthor. He's already depressed over his perception of failure in his *father's* eyes. He'd never let himself work for his father's rival." Slade told the tycoon bluntly. "My way of first feeding into his confidence will bring him around easier.

"And we are getting there with me reconnecting him to his roots as a circus aerialist."

"An 'aerialist'?"

"He's got good moves. Good enough that I could learn a thing or two from him." Slade drawled almost casually as he surreptitiously observed his companions.

"Frankly, I'm surprised his-- father hasn't tracked you down yet to reclaim his-- son." Talia's eyes were challenging as she gazed at him.

"Maybe he hadn't hired the right people, or he's letting the kid have some freedom." Slade shrugged nonchalantly. "Keep the apron strings too tight and the kid might run for good."

"From what my people tell me, the boy has a lot of un-mined and neglected potential which his playboy father never developed. I would value a man of his talents and abilities far more than his father has shown, Deathstroke." Luthor's eyes glittered as he caught Slade's attention again. "I could have him go far in Lex Corp, under my wing. It would serve Wayne right to have to face what he missed right under his nose."

How they accomplished it, Slade couldn't say, but he and Talia managed not to out right laugh in Luthor's face for his statement. "I'll keep it under consideration when his training is over, Luthor."

The look of commiseration which Talia shared with him behind Luthor's back gave Slade an assurance of one highly placed member he could probably count on as an ally in the Society. The future was looking brighter.

*~*~*~*~*

Really-- ever since the kid called Wayne, Slade had been expecting a visit from one of Grayson's friends or family. However, he couldn't say he had expected to see this particular hero. "Something I can do for you, Flash?"

"Is he here of his own free will?"

Slade sneered at the scarlet speedster standing in the middle of his study. "He's clean of drugs and I have no history of mind control powers. What do you think?"

"That you could have some other hold over him."

'I wish.' Slade's libido unexpectedly piped up.

He gave himself a mental kick to stop his hormones from taking too much of an interest in the sleekness of the Flash's form fitting costume in comparison to Nightwing's normal outfit. Slade's libido blew a raspberry at him and made a gleeful observation that Grayson had a nicer ass in costume-- of course it was even more desirable unclothed but--

Slade firmly returned his attention to his un-welcomed guest. "Thought you'd know him better than that-- Flash?" He frowned to himself at his inability to name the hero. There was a nagging thought within him which told him he once knew the other man's identity, but he just couldn't put a finger on it.(13) It was something to think about later when he had less pressing concerns on hand. "Grayson would hardly allow himself to be held prisoner for whatever reason. Even if he couldn't free himself, he'd have long sent off a distress signal."

"Well--" The tightening of the other man's jaw was notable. "We've had words before about not calling on friends for help when we've needed it." (13)

Slade let out a big sigh as he noted the presence of another man. "At least you left your Outsiders behind."

"And I'm wondering if I should still give them a call." Arsenal growled at him from the door as he entered the room. "I don't trust you any further than I can throw you, Wilson. And what the hell were you *thinking* of to bring Rose into your world?"

"Did she tell you she wanted out?"

"No--"

"Then it's none of your business my daughter decided to follow in my footsteps, is it?"

"Maybe..."

"Nightwing's another matter--"

"And Nightwing can make his own decisions, thank you." The annoyance was plainly heard in Grayson's voice where it suddenly appeared from the hall behind them.

"Nig--" The two heroes turned around to stare at their friend in shock.

Slade smirked; the Flash and Harper really couldn't have visited at a better time. They had in fact the rather enviable privilege of being among the first to see Grayson's new costume and undercover persona.

He was a much darker bird now, dressed as he was in solid black with a stylized 'bird' in blood red across his chest and back. Slade had to nod approvingly at the accessories, which were quite different to Nightwing's normal style. They took Batman's suggestion for Grayson to not use escrima sticks in this guise but have steel reinforcements in his gauntlets with extended elbow blades. Even with the leg brace slightly marring the effect, the design still appeared more deadly than Nightwing ever wished to look.

"Dic--?!"

"What the fu--?!"

"Simmer down you two." As comfortingly familiar as Grayson's amicable voice was to his friends, the only part which could be seen of his face was his mouth and jaw and the full effect of his costume change was intimidating.

"Looking good, kid."

'Yes, he is *indeed*.' Slade's libido agreed whole heartedly. 'Keeping the black was an excellent decision.'

"I'll need another month or so with the leg brace before I'm good to debut." Grayson grinned at them. "Batman *did* tell you not to interfere, didn't he?" The question was directed at the Flash.

"Well--"

"W-- Flash, we talked." Grayson snapped up the Starlite lenses on his mask so that they could see him rolling his eyes. "It's too good an opportunity to pass on and I trust Slade."

The older man could well see the distinctly sour look on Arsenal's face when Grayson called him 'Slade' instead of the expected 'Wilson' or 'Deathstroke'. Flash was also glaring at him and he could guess why.

"Get over it, Flash. I knew your lung would heal quickly. If I really wanted you dead I'd have taken your head off or knifed you through the heart." (11) Slade gave the scarlet speedster a challenging look.

"Time out!" Grayson pulled off his mask as he stepped between them and faced his friends. "You two are *guests* here, so behave yourselves. And *you.*" Slade found himself almost nose to nose with Grayson and though the younger man was shorter, he appeared no less intimidating. "Stop baiting them. You think we need allies? We've got them right here; *people* we can trust from the JLA and the Outsiders.

"So don't burn our bridges, Wilson."

'Ooo, he called you, *Wilson*. He's sexy when he's pissed off, ain't he?' At times, Slade wished his libido was real so he could choke it to death. Its comments at the most inappropriate of times were *not* appreciated.

"Acknowledged, Grayson." He managed to seize control of his thoughts and reactions again; quite thankful he wasn't facing the telepathic Martian Manhunter. "Now why don't you spend some time reassuring your friends that I haven't made you my personal pet?"

'Yet! And 'sex slave' sounds *so* much better, doesn't it?'

Shut up!

"And leave me to finish my interrupted paperwork." Slade deliberately turned his back on the three men to stride behind his desk.

"Can do." Grayson corked his head at him before throwing a mischievous grin at his surprised friends. "You know, Slade, one of these days when you least expect it, Rose and I will clear the papers from your desk and replace your paper pile with a computer."

The mercenary growled as he drew his knife and slammed it point down on his hardwood table. "Neither of you can run faster than me."

"No? But we're younger and craftier." Grayson laughed as he winked at him. "You've got to move with the times, old man. Computerising will make it easier to keep track of your information."

"This? Coming from a man whose apartment has always been an obstacle course?" Slade steadfastly held a tight rein on his amusement to watch the Flash and Arsenal staring from him to Grayson and back again with flabbergasted expressions on their faces.

"Ahh, but it was just the living area which I *kept* as an environment of chaos." The younger man nodded pointedly at the haphazard piles of papers on the desk. "My work areas were always well organised and neat."

"Scram, kid, and leave an old man to his anachronisms." Slade waved his pencil at the smirking hero threateningly.

"Let me change into Nightwing and we'll hit Warriors." Dick waved at him before he started to turn towards his friends. "Would you mind if Rose came along? In disguise, of course; can't have Deathstroke's daughter looking too friendly with the Titans."

"Just don't let her have any alcohol." Slade muttered under his breath as he turned his attention back to his desk with its strewn piles of paperwork.

It amused Slade greatly to notice how possessively the Flash and Arsenal laid a 'friendly' hand on Grayson's shoulders, as they walked the kid out of Slade's study. He'd swear that half the fun of this whole caper was watching the reactions of Grayson's friends around him.

Still, beyond the hasty move to encourage their friend to quit his presence, Slade did note the reluctantly accorded acceptance the two heroes had given him based on Grayson's trust. It made him very pleased with the initially unpalatable situation he had found himself in when Black Mask had first fostered off Wayne's heir into his hands.

Truly, this was as good a demonstration as any that linking up with Grayson would open a lot of doors for him in the hero community. And this was with a lot of consideration given to his very prominent role in the Society to boot. It was significant to Slade that the privileged few who knew Nightwing's identity numbered among the more respected hero teams, and it would count a *lot* to be accorded the leeway provided by Nightwing's association with him. However, Slade didn't deceive himself from recognising the acceptance as one which was, at present, only grudgingly given.

*~*~*~*~*

At times, Slade wished Grayson would rest more. The kid was pushing himself too hard and Slade thought he was trying to punish himself for his earlier stupidity. At the least, it seemed to him that *Nightwing* was back again. If he recalled the letters from Joey about the Titans' ex-leader, the kid had tended to be a workaholic.

However, as the passing weeks saw Grayson getting back in his groove and rebuilding the muscle he had lost during his disappearance, Slade was to be uncomfortably reminded of the day they kissed. Too often, Slade found himself just sitting back and watching admiringly as the kid went though his routines on the gym equipment. Even handicapped with his injured leg in a bulky protective brace, in the air Nightwing was still pure grace in motion with gravity apparently a mere suggestion to his acrobatic skills.

It reminded Slade of the painting he had found hidden away among Joey's collection of pieces, which he had unearthed while he was clearing Addie's mansion after her death. Looking upon it that day, Slade had understood why Joey had never given it to Grayson. Or-- perhaps his son was just waiting for a time or an opportunity to bequeath it to the man's lover. The painting of Dick Grayson, which showed him flying through the air and reaching for a trapeze bar, had been all form, grace, power, and haunting sexual desire.

Slade had known of his son's occasional inclinations towards his own sex. But until he had set eyes on the painting, the mercenary hadn't realised how strongly Joey could feel for another man. It had all come across powerfully in the painting of Grayson. Somehow, Slade knew if the kid hadn't already been romantically involved with Starfire during the time Joey knew them, that his son would have pursued Grayson as a lover.

That painting now sat in Slade's bedroom. The mercenary couldn't exactly adequately explain why he had taken it out of storage and placed it there. If he had expected nightmares where Joey's spectre to frown upon him disapprovingly, it hadn't exactly occurred either. In fact, in his dreams, Slade could remember his son grinning at him slyly in a manner which made him blush.

The next time Slade had watched Grayson going through his routines, his libido actively speculated over how interesting sex would be with a lover who was *that* flexible. And the cruel beast gleefully pointed out to him it had been a while since he last 'had any.' It had even further reminded him that the younger man was currently unattached and therefore free to be pursued. At those times Slade *really* hated his libido.

*~*~*~*~*

"Wilson."

Slade woke with a start at the growl of his name; cursing inwardly as he sat up to contemplate the dark, bat shaped figure that currently stood at the foot of his bed. "Even when I was hunting Grayson in the past, I showed better manners than to wake him up in the middle of the night." The mercenary grumbled grumpily as he rubbed the sleep from his eye. He was distinctly unhappy with himself for being taken by surprise.

Silence greeted his words, making Slade sigh as he reached for his eye patch and affixed it properly before turning to face his guest. He did not bother to try and turn on his bedside light. Knowing Batman, he thought sourly, the man probably removed the light bulbs to ensure they stayed shielded in the darkness of the night.

"What's your beef, Batman?"

"What are your *intentions* towards my son?"

Slade eyed the other figure as he took a moment to digest the question. "I'm not poaching sons, if that's what you're asking?"

The 'Bat glare' he got for that statement could have melted a diamond. The man was a great conversationalist, Slade thought sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. "Is this about the tattoos?"

As impossible as it sounded, the glare got fiercer. "*What* tattoos?"

Damn! It was a no wonder the kid was such a fucked up, goodie-two-shoes, with astronomical standards of conduct if *this* was what raised him. Then the thought suddenly dawned on him that Grayson hadn't told the Bat about the tattoos. Shit! The kid was going to kill him.

"He didn't get them voluntarily." Slade offered cautiously. "We're planning to have them removed once we were done with this caper."

"Who?" The pure menace behind the word was enough to make even Slade shiver.

"Black Mask marked him up to claim Wayne's son as his property and also to throw him a scare. I was told he wasn't hurt beyond that. I had a doctor check him to make sure the claim wasn't a lie." Perhaps it was overly generous of Slade to add the last bit on Black Mask's behalf, but he did prefer dealing with a rational Batman who wasn't going to be out for blood. Besides, Black Mask was still useful to have alive. For now...

"What is your interest in Dick Grayson, Wilson?"

"Jesus, Wayne. Your boy already gives you a weekly update on our plans."

"Those are *our* plans. I want to know what your *personal* intensions are?"

"Not a thing."

'... apart from an interest to fuck the brains out of the desirable young man.' Slade's insidious libido reminded him gleefully.

Not now!

"Really?"

Slade looked in the direction Batman glanced at and cursed under his breath. Joey's painting. Shit! Shit! Shit! The Bat *was* going to kill him-- Well he'd *try* anyway.

"I *don't* rape, Wayne. And I have no respect for *anyone* who would take advantage of, or sexually abuse another."

"But if he offered himself to you?"

Slade choked at the question. "This is getting ridiculous. Jesus, Wayne?! Your boy doesn't swing that way!

"He almost married an alien, *female*, supermodel. And how long was he dating Barbara Gordon?" But Slade's libido immediately piped up again to remind him of the answering hardness which he had felt when Grayson had dragged him into a kiss in his armoury slightly over a month ago.

A long uncomfortable silence fell between them. And Slade was starting to get annoyed with Batman's presence. Before he could say something to express it though, Batman spoke again.

"Hurt him, Wilson, and there isn't a pit deep enough where you can hide from me." Batman growled at him.

"*He* has too many friends, Wayne." The mercenary reminded him pointedly. "Give me the credit of having a sense of self preservation and to *know better* than to get most of the major superhero teams on this planet mad with me." Slade really *did not* like being reminded of how the entire hero community had banded together, earlier that year, to hunt down Sue Dibny's murderer.(11)

"And I am recognising that you're both consenting adults."

"Gee, that's generous of yo-- What the hell?" Slade almost leaped from his bed this time.

To his consternation, Batman looked as if he was much more relaxed now then when he first entered. Something made him turn towards the window to find himself looking upon *another* bat shaped figure; this one much smaller, female and quite familiar. Slade reflected sourly over their last encounter where she called him 'pathetic' to his face. (4) But she had also reminded him then, how much he truly cared for Rose.

Then it dawned on Slade that she appeared to be giggling softly at them, and he remembered Batgirl was also the one infamous member of the 'bat-clan' who was said to have an almost magical ability to read one's body language. Undoubtedly, she had probably been 'reading' him and quietly passing whatever information she gleaned on to Batman. This seemed to be a night for cursing.

Before Slade could turn his attention back on Batman, the man was at the window and shooing Batgirl away so that he could climb out. It was rather obvious to Slade, though the man wasn't thrilled with whatever information he had gained from his spy he appeared resigned to it. However, what Batgirl had told her mentor, Slade hadn't the foggiest idea.

"Wait a minute, Wayne! What was the exchange between you and that girl all about?"

Batman gave him a measuring look before he spoke. "If *you* don't know, you're not going to like it from a third party. Just remember, Wilson, I-- *we* will be watching you."

With that last warning, the window was slammed shut after Batman's departure and Slade was left alone in his room again; wondering what the hell the crazy bat-folk thought they had accomplished with this meeting. It took him a long time to fall back asleep.

*~*~*~*~*

"Slade! Why the fuck did you tell *him* about the tattoos?!" was the suffering mercenary's morning call as a seriously pissed off Dick Grayson stormed into his bedroom. He just groaned and tried to hide his aching head under his pillow.

"Gods! The man was practically foaming at the mouth!" Grayson ranted on and on as he paced around Slade's bed uncaring that he was steadfastly being ignored. "I mean, I love the guy for being so protective of me, but damn it! I didn't appreciate him suddenly acting as if I was *ten* years old aga--"

The sudden silence warned Slade that Grayson's attention was caught by something else. Oh, yes-- this was a day for cursing all right... After Batman left, he hadn't given a single thought towards putting away the painting which Grayson was undoubtedly staring at now.

Slade started to wonder if he could somehow have the entire week rebooted. Maybe the Society's plan to mind wipe the superheroes wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"You know, Slade? I look better *on* canvas, rather than *being* the canvas, don't I?"

Slade cautiously peeked from between the folds of his bed sheets in the direction of Grayson's voice. And his jaw dropped. The younger man was seated on the edge of Slade's bed in front of Joey's painting, with his red robe casually unfastened and pooled low enough around his hips to show off the fact he was nude under the garment. He appeared to be curiously contemplating the roses tattooed over his back and comparing it to the painting.

Slade's howling libido seized control of him and had him reaching over to yank Grayson into his arms to be kissed hungrily before his mind realised what his body was doing. By the time his brain caught up, Slade had the younger man stripped and pinned to the bed beneath him, with the kid's wrists captured in one hand and held against the headboard.

"K-- kid?" His voice was shaky as he stared down at the beautiful man. "You'd better be sure and serious about what you're getting into."

"I'm sure of what I want." Grayson gave him a challenging grin. "But are *you* sure you can hold me?"

Slade read the other man's invitation clearly and nearly moaned in anticipation as his free hand went scrabbling in the bed clothes for Grayson's discarded robe with its convenient belt. The soft terry cloth was swiftly looped around and over the captured wrists and knotted behind the hands. A torn piece of bed sheet further tied the imprisoned wrists to the bed frame overhead. Slade knew that an escape artist like Grayson would find no challenge in freeing himself-- if he wanted to. Still, he wanted added assurance.

"Give me a safe word, Kid."

"Wha-? I know you, Slade. You don't rape and you won't hurt me. Or if you wanted to hurt me you'd have shot me." Grayson amended remembering the previous times they clashed on opposite sides of the law. "We do have a history of trying to kill each other..."

"Give me a safe word or it stops now."

"You're a bastard, you know that, Slade?" Grayson squirmed beneath him. "'Batgirl' okay? Is that good enough for you?"

"Batgirl?"

"She's the one who told me you were attracted to me, but was steadfastly denying it." Grayson grinned at him. "I didn't believe it until I saw that painting.

"Now quit stalling and fuck me already, Slade."

The mercenary gave his 'captive' an evil grin. "That's the problem with you kids, you're always in a hurry."

"Slade..." Grayson's eyes narrowed at him in stern admonition.

"I want to hear you beg, Grayson." He purred as he slithered down the length of the younger man's body at a snail's pace, planting kisses and tiny nips over his skin at random intervals.

"Make me!" was Grayson's growled out challenge between ragged pants of need.

"Oh, it will be my pleasure, Grayson." Slade promised him as he ghosted a kiss over the still healing wound on the man's right thigh, making his 'captive' shiver exquisitely. "I'll be right back."

"Slade!" Grayson howled as his legs caught him around his torso. "What the hell do you *mean* 'I'll be right back?'"

"Shit, kid. I was just gonna get a condom and some lube." Slade firmly untangled himself from Grayson's legs. "What will it take to get you to behave? Do I have to tie you down by your ankles too?"

The kid's shudder was positively delicious, and Slade tried hard not to think of how inappropriate it was for someone in their line of work to get so hot and bothered over being tied down and taken. "I trust you, Slade." He almost didn't register the kid's rough rasp of desire. "And it *is* far from the same on-- missions."

"It'd better." Slade growled as he moved back up to kiss the younger man hungrily before he spoke again. "Like I told the Bat, you have too many friends, kid. Anyone who hurts you will be on the receiving end of a lot of pain from them, me included. You *remember* that if there's ever a next time."

He didn't allow Grayson to respond to his assertion, but concentrated on kissing him breathless again; enough to daze him so that he could quickly tear more strips out of his bed sheets to secure the younger man's ankles to the opposite bed posts. He made sure to allow enough leeway for his 'captive' to comfortably bend his knees, but not to close his legs.

"Now stay good." Slade growled at his neatly trussed up 'captive' as he playfully stroked a finger along the length of the weeping cock which was standing and waving forlornly 'at' him.

"Gods, Slade!" Grayson's full body shudder and whine of need encouraged him to return as quickly as he could from the bathroom with the sought out condom and tube of KY jelly.

However, on re-entering his bedroom, Slade had to take a moment to admire the tableau which he had created before him. The weeks of good food and exercise had done much to restore Grayson's well sculpted body to its fighting trim figure. And presented as he was now with wrists tied overhead and ankles secured to the corners of the bed, it had Slade contemplating the sinfully delicious dessert he made. The mercenary promised himself that there would be a next time with chocolate sauce and ice cream, or maybe hot wax and ice cubes.

"Slade?"

"I'm just admiring my tasty treat, little bird." Slade glided over to crawl between Grayson's legs and set the condom and tube of lubricant beside his hips. He ghosted a light touch on the profusely weeping cock to gather the kid's pre-come on his fingers and carried the precious drops up to delicately paint the rapidly hardening nipples. Grayson barely held back a whimper when Slade followed his fingers with a warm wet tongue and nibbling teeth; teasing the tiny buds of flesh into rigid peaks of desire.

He allowed his breath to puff against one such saliva wet peak as the fingers of his hand firmly pinched and twisted the other. "*Very* tasty indeed."

"God, Slade!" He did so enjoy Grayson's throaty moans, so he exchanged attentions to the nipples, eliciting another moan and shudder of want from the other man. Before he was through, Slade was determined to make Grayson scream himself hoarse.

It didn't take him very long to get the kid to start begging him. Slade grinned evilly as he alternately stroked Grayson's leaking erection and used the viscous fluid he was collecting on his fingers to leisurely trace the lines of the butterfly tattoo on the kid's inner left thigh. Coupled with his soft puffs of breath and infrequent wet, nibbling licks along the kid's delightfully sensitive neck, and over blood engorged nipples, he was making Grayson strain hard against the ties. Slade knew though that his 'captive' was aware he could slip free easily should he really want to; nevertheless, Grayson obediently did not attempt to escape the exquisite torture.

"Gods, Slade. Fuck me already, *please* just fuck me!"

'Finally!' The kid said the magic words which had Slade stop his teasing exploration of the butterfly on his thigh to reach for the tube of lubricant.

However, the tight fit of his first finger into the kid's ass was making Slade hesitate. "Grayson? Have you ever done this before?"

"Slade! Damn it! Now's not the time to compare histories. I'm clean, okay?" Was the snarled reply, which he did notice hadn't answered the question.

"Kid?" He dragged his finger in and out at a deliberately slow pace.

"I'm *not* a virgin."

"If you still are, Starfire must have just been a cock tease. Have you had *anyone* up your ass before, Grayson?"

"Yes! Well-- No-- not exactly."

"Ain't any such thing as an inconclusive fuck, kid."

The younger man slumped back against the mattress in defeat. "Kory-- well-- actually it was Mirage in disguise-- she had-- toys." He admitted at last. "I was-- curious and we tried some out."

Slade almost lost it. "Was *that* why you hadn't known the difference when the spitfire took your girl's place?" (14)

"Would you have dared admit it if it'd happened to you?" Grayson growled at his obvious amusement. "I thought-- Kory just wanted to try something new. Nothing was familiar and that was half the fun."

"Warring girlfriends with interesting toys aside, you still never had a man before, kid. Are you sur--?"

"Slade!" Grayson snarled at him in frustration. "I'm sure. I don't know anyone else who I trust who'd actually be interested in me this way. And while we're, more often than not, on opposing sides I *trust* you."

"Grayson--" Damn... The kid could be too clueless about his own raw sexuality and attractiveness to be believed. Slade could certainly think of one man in particular who he knew to be in lust with Grayson for a long while now.

"For fucks sake, Wilson! Do I have to put it up on a billboard in flashing lights for you to understand I want you?" The younger man glared at him. "Either you do *something* or I'll get myself loose and fuck you!"

"I *don't* get fucked, kid." Slade slid home a second finger, making Grayson toss his head back with a loud moan and push against him as he found the younger man's prostate gland. 'Too bad, Harper. I don't mind being on your shit list a while longer for this privilege.' "I think I'd much rather have *you* laid out like this and helpless in *my* hands."

"Oh, God, Slade-- more."

The kid was just *smoking*, making Slade want to say more. "What about we invest in some silk hemp, eh, kid? It'd be better than terry cloth. And what would you say to being hung spread eagle in the centre of a room while I fuck you up the ass?" It was very interesting indeed to watch Grayson responding so positively to 'dirty' talk. Damn! This was a real find.

"I'll give you a collar too, how about it? With a real dog tag which will state that you're my *property*." A third finger went in making Grayson almost arch himself off the bed despite the restraints.

"Or maybe I should keep you tied to my bed; hide you away as my private little punk. How about that? Have you flat on your face and tied down, with just a buzzing dildo for company to keep you stretched and prepared for me." He just barely managed to keep himself from talking about the tattoos on Grayson's back. As much as Slade was fascinated and turned on by them, he didn't want to remind the kid of his still unspoken of treatment at the hands of Black Mask's men.

"Slade, please... Fuck me, *please*."

He wouldn't have missed this for the world. It was news freely and light heartedly shared within the villain community that Nightwing was socially admired within the superhero community for having the best looking ass in costume, and Slade could believe it; especially after the kid started wearing his current black and electric-blue costume.

It was really just Slade's luck the kid was so totally unaware of his own sex appeal and oblivious to the interest paid to his person by both female and male heroes. Grayson's reasons why he'd wanted Slade to be his first man fairly screamed evidence to him that he was completely in the dark over Arsenal's unrequited lust. Joey's desire was certainly another attraction which Grayson hadn't known of.

It really surprised Slade that the kid hadn't been approached sooner by *anyone* at all. Then again, recalling the visit by Batman earlier that morning, maybe it wasn't so surprising. What red blooded male wanted the *Bat's* attention on him for leading his *son* away from the social 'norms' of general society?

Whatever the reason, Slade did understand that he was about to enjoy a remarkable privilege. A person never truly ever forgot their first lover. And he was going to be Grayson's first man. It made Slade wonder too how much the kid's desperate need was a result of his weeks of captivity and terror under Black Mask's control where he had been threatened with rape. Given that they were planning for Grayson to slip into the society under deep cover, what was the likelihood he had wanted to have sex with Slade *now*, just so he had the assurance his first experience was not as a victim of rape?

Slade growled to himself at the idea of anyone else daring to demand a share of this privilege. A sudden image came to him of his 'ally' Lex Luthor looking upon the Wayne heir with a calculative glint in his eyes. And Slade swore to himself that for as long as Grayson was with him in their current predicament, he was going to protect the younger man from the depredations of others.

For now though, Slade could tell from the clench about his fingers that the kid was too tensed. He was going to hurt himself if he did not loosen up. And Slade knew the perfect way to make the kid relax.

He had Grayson's howl ringing in his ears the moment his mouth engulfed the younger man's sex. Predictably, Slade found himself drinking down Grayson's climax shortly after. By the time he was through milking the younger man of his release, the kid was totally limp.

A quick check assured him Grayson hadn't passed out with the orgasm, and Slade took the opportunity to slip on a condom and ease his eager cock into the blissfully constrictive heat. As relaxed as Grayson was now though, it still wasn't easy. But Slade revelled at the difficulty since it only reminded him that he was the first man in this previously uncharted territory.

By the time Slade managed to seat himself balls deep into his softly moaning lover, Grayson was hard again. However, he didn't start moving yet. The kid may have been aroused once more, but Slade did note that the younger man also had a trickle of tears staining his cheeks.

He had to cough a couple of times before his voice would work properly again. "Tell me when, kid." He rasped as he nibbled along the line of Grayson's neck. "But don't wait too God damn long."

Slade thought he was going to white out when he felt the clasp of muscles around him. "Kid! Don't tease me!"

"What?" The kid was too innocent to be believed. Slade moaned tiny curses against Grayson's skin as the kid tentatively flexed and squirmed around his sex while he got used to having him so intimately inside.

"Kid!" Slade's breathing was ragged as he strove to control himself. He looked up to glare at Grayson then, only to gaze upon a smirking countenance. 'The little shit! Just when did he turn the tables on him?'

Slade felt the younger man squeeze him most intimately again and he berated himself for ever underestimating Nightwing. Even tied down, nude, and inexperienced, the kid had easily exerted a modicum of control over their coupling. 'Well, he wasn't going to get away with it.' Slade felt as if his sexual prowess was being challenged. But he knew just the way to seize control of the situation again.

"Chains, kid." Slade rasped into Grayson's ear as his large hands moved to stroke along the shivering body and take a hold of the younger man's buttocks and hips. "For this, you deserve to be wrapped in chains, not silk."

Yep, he had the kid trembling like a leaf now. He started to carefully withdraw and thrust into his constrictive heat; adjusting the angle of entry until he could get the younger man to make hungry mewling noises with each forceful stab into him; sure now that he was unerring hitting his sweet spot. "You'd like it, won't you, Grayson? I'm not talking-- about flimsy handcuffs-- or coarse rope, but smooth iron links. The kind-- we can easily pick up-- at a hardware store. The kind no one-- will turn a head-- to seeing a middle aged man-- picking up in *broad daylight*."

"Slade--" Slade decided he *liked* the feel of Grayson's full body shudder while he was buried deep within his ass.

"You'd enjoy that, won't you, the feel of smooth, cold metal-- against your naked flesh? 'cause I'll not give you a strip to wear, will I?" He rumbled on, jerking his hips harder and slamming himself more forcefully into the bound and helpless body beneath him. "Why bother? You're just-- my private-- little *catamite* after all."

"Please... Please... Please..." Slade liked how he was almost incoherent with need.

"I'll make us-- our very own *dungeon*-- playroom. Keep you there-- for my private use. How would you-- like that?

"And what would be your pleasure, little bird? To be chained up right-- and spread eagled in the centre-- of your *cage*?"

"Sl-- ade, please..." Grayson was writhing with his agonized immobility.

"Or would you prefer-- to be on your knees on the cold concrete-- wrists and arms chained behind your back-- a collar around your neck and-- chained to a ring on the floor to keep your head down-- a spreader bar strapped between your knees-- and your ass wavering-- *invitingly* in the air.

"Or maybe-- I could have you-- suspended and swinging in midair-- with your wrists chained to your ankles-- and your whole body arched-- and opened for me-- to *plunder* at will."

"Slade! Please!"

At Grayson's desperate cry, Slade released his hip to seize his lover's cruelly neglected cock. That simple touch was sufficient to set off Grayson screaming, making the younger man spray his climax over his belly and chest. Slade wasn't far behind him as the sweet, pulsating clench of muscles over Slade's thrusting length was enough to tip him over the peak as well, making him clutch Grayson's body tighter against him so that his spurting cock was completely encased in the younger man's inviting ass.

Finally spent, Slade held himself on trembling arms over his 'conquest' and savoured the view of the exquisite sight beneath him. Grayson's eyes were closed as he panted and lay limp, come splattered and utterly debauched on his bed. As much as Slade liked Joey's painting, this was a more beautiful picture to him and he decided he wanted to see the younger man like this as often as he could be privileged to. However, the thought of Joey brought Slade back to himself to mull over and consider the ramifications of what he and Grayson had just started between them.

As if he could sense the serious turn in his lover's mood, the kid looked up and locked eyes with him. "Fun and games, are fun and games, Wilson. I *don't* mix that up with work." Slade watched Grayson slip his hands free of the cloth bonds like it was child's play to him.

"Well-- glad to hear that, kid."

Grayson's arms looped around Slade's neck to drag him into a searing kiss. "I hear a 'but' in your tone," was whispered against his lips, even as the younger man pulled on the bindings around his ankles to impale himself firmer on Slade's reawakening erection.

"Kid!" He turned his moan into a devouring kiss as the hunter in him strove to re-exert his dominance over his lover. "Where-- do you want to take this?"

"Wherever it'll go." Grayson looked up at him honestly. "I'm making a lot of discoveries here, Slade. Discovering I like to be fucked. Discovering a kink about being tied down which I never realised before..."

He breathed an inward sigh of relief, but froze upon noticing the stormy look in Grayson's eyes. "I am not an inexperienced virgin with my brains lost in a crush, or the pitter-patters of 'first love,' Slade. Give me some credit for having a clear mind about my feelings."

Slade thoroughly kissed the other man to apologise. "Sorry, kid. Had a worry for a moment that there was some lingering stupid field attached to you."

"Why? Because I was crazy enough seduced *you*?" Grayson smirked as he wiggled against him, making the larger man suck in a sudden breath at the mind numbing pleasure it caused.

"Maybe I just couldn't believe my luck." Slade held his hips and began to firmly fuck the younger man again.

"It-- would give us an-- interesting cover-- as well." Grayson moaned as his arms tightened around Slade's shoulders so that he could use the leverage to pull his ass harder against him.

"It would give me-- legitimate and-- *exclusive* claim." Slade agreed grimly.

"You won't-- share?"

He couldn't help his double take, not believing what he had heard until he noticed the mischievous glint in Grayson's eyes. "Damn, kid. You need-- to see a *shrink*-- about your kinks." Slade caught the younger man's wrists to wrench them from around his neck and slam them on either side of his 'captive's' head. "And you're damn right-- I *don't* share." His thrusts were purposely hard and forceful with these words. Hell would freeze over before he'd let anyone else lay a finger on this beautiful young man.

"Nothing-- wrong about it-- if it's just talk-- and not real." Yup, the play of dominance was getting the kid hot again, his breathing was growing hitched and shuddery once more.

"You like me-- to talk dirty, don't you?" Slade growled against Grayson's neck. "You like hearing me suggest ways-- I could so thoroughly *ravaged* you-- and *claim* you as mine?" He ended his words with a forceful bite on Grayson's neck which he knew would bruise and stay for a few weeks before it faded completely.

The answering shudder and moan assured him the kid was receptive to being thus marked. "No--nothing wrong with-- that."

"Nothing wrong at all; maybe I'll even enact some of the scenes. You *want* to experience-- total subservience in my hands, don't you? Be my pretty prisoner-- who I keep around-- as a convenient hole with-- which to slack my lust. You do *like* the idea-- of chains, don't you?" Slade purred as he forcefully thrust into his lover's sweet clenching heat. "I bet right now-- you're fantasizing how it'll feel-- to be wrapped up-- in cold metal. How it'll feel-- to be chained immobile and exposed-- utterly helpless-- and unable to move an inch-- in our dungeon playroom."

"S--la--de--"

"Maybe we'll even-- have our own toy box, and I'll get you some nipple clamps, and maybe a paddle or two, eh? How about that? I could give you a good whipping next time. Turn your pretty, lily-white skin, a sweet cherry red and extra sensitive to my touch.

"We'll also get you a collection-- of butt plugs and battery powered dildos. And we'll experiment-- to see if you're a size queen-- or an accessories and texture slut. Won't that be fun?"

"Oh, Gods... Yes, please."

The kid was fucked up. No question about it, but Slade found that he really didn't mind. While he had little doubt their relationship *would* have an end, it didn't bother him. Until the day came, Slade could imagine them indulging in a lot of deliciously hot, bondage sex during their current association. Damn, Rose was going to laugh at him when she found out he finally gave in and pounced on their house guest... not that she wouldn't already know with the racket they were currently generating.

In the meantime, Slade determined too that he was going to have a bit of fun rubbing Arsenal's nose in their affair. Maybe by the end of all this, he'd drive the archer so crazy with jealousy the man could be instigated to do something about his secret, unrequited crush.

It would be a bonus if he got to Barbara Gordon as well and made the silly girl realise what she threw away. The question would then be whether Gordon might come to her senses and make a determined play to reclaim Nightwing's affections too. Given though, the fact that Grayson would now have significant experience playing for the other team, Slade rather hoped that he would be more cautious and wary in choosing his next love to be. The competition between the two redheads would be interesting to watch.

Ultimately, it would be nice to be able to safely 'hand' Nightwing's heart to someone who'd take good care of it and value the privilege they'd been gifted with. Joey's spirit would be pleased with him if he managed to arrange it.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> 1 New Titans # 82-84 (Titans Hunt: The Jericho Gambit)  
> 2 Nightwing # 80  
> 3 Outsiders # 21-22  
> 4 Batgirl # 62-64  
> 5 Tales of the Teen Titans # 44 (Collected in The Judas Contract TPB)  
> 6 New Teen Titans # 2 [1981] Grant was the first Ravenger who eventually died because of the treatment the HIVE gave him to confer upon him special powers. This brought Deathstroke in conflict with the Titans as he felt obligated to complete his son's contract on the Titans  
> 7 New Teen Titans # 21 to 22, 26 to 31 & Annual #2 [1986-1987]  
> 8 New Titans # 100  
> 9 The 'Sacrifice' storyline: Superman # 219, Action Comics #829, Adv of Superman # 642, Wonder Woman # 219  
> 10 The OMAC Project  
> 11 Identity Crisis - Deathstroke punctuated Flash's lung with his sword when they clashed.  
> 12 Villains United - When he was recruited Blake initially thought that Deathstroke killed his pride of lions, this wasn't so.  
> 13 Flash: The Secret of Barry Allen (TPB) - The Spectre (Hal Jordon) restored Wally's secret identity.  
> 14 New Titans # 86-89 & part of Total Chaos: New Titans # 90-92, Team Titans # 1-3, Deathstroke # 14-16 [1992]


End file.
